


Kill me, from the inside out

by princess_jieun (shirayukihime)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, Crayons, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 14:52:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8213002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirayukihime/pseuds/princess_jieun
Summary: Jongdae loves his crayons.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was posted at chenpionships @ lj, a Lord Chen fic exchange, round 2014!

When he was 3 he got a set of crayons. Just 6 crayons, but he made use of them the best way he could. On the night he got it, he ran to his parents’ room, shouting and crying that there was a monster in his closet. “Don’t be silly dear, it’s nothing but your imagination,” and his mother tucked him back under the blue blanket. She kissed him goodnight but Jongdae didn’t sleep well that night, not at all.

He's a smart kid, clever and inquisitive. He likes to draw, a lot. He draws every day, starting at two in the afternoon, after his mom goes out from their house to work. When she comes back home, at 8pm, he's still happily drawing. She chuckles and goes to cook dinner before his dad comes back home. Jongdae doesn't mind being alone, in fact he almost doesn't notice when his mom leaves. Sometimes he notices her when she gives him a kiss on the cheek, or when she gives him a back hug and says that she won't take long. He just nods and continues drawing, stopping only between breaths of air. His parents never saw his drawings; they never got curious and only noticed how hardworking their son is.

Jongdae doesn't run around the house frequently, nor does he pretend that he can fly. Instead, he uses the living room the most to draw. He finds it burdensome to run and he's still small to be doing any good at school so he only goes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He's currently four.

On Jongdae's 5th birthday, he gets a set of limited edition crayons. He likes it a lot.

He closes the box of crayons and tucks it underneath his arm, the other holding a small stack of white paper. Jongdae gets slight black circles around his eyes in the span of a year.

Before he notices it, it's his 6th birthday. He didn't notice at first, getting his crayons to go to school and when he goes down still wearing pajamas to have his mommy's delicious breakfast, he's shoved on his special chair with loads of food in front of him and a pile of presents with rainbow ribbons next to his plate.

"Happy birthday!" They exclaim in unison, hugging Jongdae and squeezing him tightly. Jongdae laughs, it's his birthday and this means a new set of crayons. His dark circles got darker in the past year and he sometimes gets sleepy in the living room while drawing, something that never happened before. Despite this, he doesn't let sleep take over and continues drawing, determined and happy.

His parents, if they noticed that something was off, don't say anything.

When Jongdae's seven, sleep gets the better of him and he ends up sleeping in the middle of the day. His parents don't notice anything, because Jongdae sleeps while they're working and when they come back, Jongdae is up and drawing like a madman, trying to make up for the lost time.

Jongdae never asks to sleep with his parents anymore. He likes his bedroom, it's full with toys and his mountains of crayons, his drawings all piled inside his closet – hundreds of pieces by him. Jongdae slowly starts forgetting about his belongings; he forgets where his clothes are at and where the toothpaste is. His parents never noticed.

When Jongdae is 8, he sleeps from the time he gets back from school until his mother comes back home. He jolts awake when he hears the door opening and the first thing his mother sees is his figure, concentrated on the piece he just started. She doesn't notice that the drawing is still in process, given that Jongdae had just started on it a few seconds ago. She gives Jongdae a kiss on the forehead and proceeds to cook.

Jongdae has fully black eye circles when he’s five months away from his 9th birthday. He’s getting older, but his love for drawing – and crayons – doesn’t change. If anything, it just grows stronger. He takes care of his materials with so much love it’s perturbing. His passion for drawing is just as worrying, but they see it as love for the arts, something that can be called as a talent of his. He takes them to school, where everyone uses color pencils instead of crayons (who uses crayons at 9 years old anyway? Hello to earth, there are pencils now in this century), and out when his parents decide to have a family outing. His parents shoot worried glances at each other, asking what they should do, whether they should convince Jongdae to leave the crayons and paper at home, but they soon forget about this when Jongdae smiles or when his eyes get glassy when they start with, “Don’t you think that you should leave –”

Jongdae decides he doesn’t like befriending his classmates. When they come near, the first thing they notice is his set of crayons by his side. “Can I draw with you?” The first time Jongdae accepted the offer, the little boy sat himself on the chair next to Jongdae and got hold of a light blue crayon of his limited edition crayon set. “I’m Park Chanyeol! My dad told me I’m –” and next thing he knew, Chanyeol was crying loudly, his back on the floor and Jongdae up on his own two feet. Somehow, he snatched the crayon back from Chanyeol’s grip and got up, shoving the poor little boy to the ground.

Jongdae was looked at with distaste after that incident by both his classmates and teachers, not that he cared anyway. He was happy if it meant being alone with his crayons and tons of white paper, ready to be filled with his art. He talked minimally, not using a whispered tone but just normal, it was just that he preferred to use his voice for things more useful than this.

When Jongdae reached 9, his parents gave him a bike. He cried and hid himself under the coffee table in the living room, saying that he wouldn’t go out if his parents didn’t trade the present to a new set of crayons. They didn’t and Jongdae cried more, still hiding. The next morning Jongdae skipped school, his parents didn’t have the heart to take the tear-stained Jongdae out from his hiding place to cry even more; his parents didn’t like it when he cried. When his mother came back, he was sleeping soundly on the same spot, under the table. She woke him up saying that she had a surprise for him. A new set of crayons. He immediately got out from under the table, thanked her and proceed to draw. His mother didn’t like how this routine sounded and how fast he’d recovered from his crying and stubborn state, but she didn’t complain, being able to see her son’s smile was everything to her.

Jongdae’s dark circles spread all around his eyes and his cheeks lost the rose color it originally possessed, and he started to forget about things more often.

“Where’s the cereal, mom?” His mom turned to look at him, a look of disbelief in her eyes and her eyebrows furrowed. Jongdae never forgot where his cereal was, ever. “Don’t you know where it is, dear?” Jongdae shooks his head, rubbing his sleepy eyes – and the dark circles around them.

His mom glances worriedly at him, chanting in her head that nothing’s wrong and it’s just something her mind’s exaggerating. She takes the cereal out and Jongdae takes it from her hands, thanking her. He stands there, awkwardly looking at the box. “What is it?” His mother promptly asks.

“With what do I eat?” Jongdae looks back from the box to his mom. He never forgot about his blue plate with the little dog on the edge. Jongdae’s mom swears that she’s not imaging anything more than the obvious. She takes his favorite plate and his blue spoon, slowly passing them to him. “Thank you mom!” Jongdae says, smiling and taking the things away from his mom hands.

She thinks these simple memories would come back soon, like next day.

 

They didn’t.

 

The next morning, Jongdae asks for a mug. His mother hesitantly passes it to him and he takes it thanking her as per usual. He goes to the garden holding the mug, and takes three flowers in, filling half of his mug. Going back inside the house to the kitchen, his mom expression is so panicked and horrified that Jongdae wonders if he did something wrong. He eats two of the flowers before his mom takes the last one away from him, telling him to stop. He stops, looks at her and tilts his head. What did he do wrong?

His mother knows something is off – or at least different – but she doesn't say anything, not to Jongdae, neither to her husband. Before going to work, she makes sure everything in the house is clean, checking everywhere she can before she's late for work. Jongdae's at school until dinner's time.

She never checks on his room.

Jongdae forgets his backpack one day, taking only the crayon set on his arms. "Where's your backpack?" Jongdae's father asks, holding the newspaper with both hands as he notices Jongdae's presence in the dining room.

Jongdae looks up, and tilts his head. "I don't have a backpack," Just then, his mother appears with the blue Pororo backpack in hand. "Here is your backpack sweetie," Jongdae's father sends her a questioning glance to what she responds with a sweet smile. It's not such an extreme problem so Jongdae's mom doesn't see why she should tell him now, she'll just find a way to understand what's happening on her own.

Jongdae kisses his mother goodbye as his father takes him to school. He's still confused as to why his parents gave him a backpack in the morning but he doesn't say anything and just follows his father to the car.

At the end of the day, Jongdae's mom receives a call from his school.

"What happened?" She asks as soon as she reaches the school, searching for the Principal. "Hello Mrs. Kim, student Jongdae fainted in his P.E. class a while ago, do you happen to know if something's wrong?" Jongdae's mom nods her head and lies, she tells the principal that it's just because he didn't get much sleep the night before because of a party they attended.

She gets a lecture about how sleep is important for kids before she's allowed to see her son. "Mom!" Jongdae smiles and gets off from the chair of the school ward, hugging her waist. She hugs him back and examines his face, for the first time in the last 3 years, and she notices the black shadows not only around his eyes or the paleness of his cheeks, but the shadow he has inside of his dark brown irises, the little sparkle he had long gone and its place taken by blankness.

His mother just hugs him once again and holds his hand. She thanks both the Principal and nurse before excusing themselves, holding Jongdae by his smaller hand. She wonders how Jongdae got all the black around his eyes.

When Jongdae's 10 and a half years old, he stops studying. He still goes to school, but refuses to learn anything and instead starts drawing with his crayons out of nowhere in the middle of the lecture. Even if his teacher shouts and kicks him out from class, he continues drawing with a smile on his face.

When his teacher gets completely infuriated, he asks the Principal to expel him. He points out what Jongdae does everyday, how he ignores everything and everyone and how he finds the smile Jongdae wears sickening and mocking even though it's just an innocent smile. The Principal, hearing what the best teacher of the school thinks about the student, requests Jongdae to withdraw from school. Jongdae agrees and says that he'll talk with his parents about it and will give his answer tomorrow. The Principal doesn't really understand what's wrong with the boy from what the teacher said.

When Jongdae tells his parents about the talk he had with the Principal, his father gets extremely furious. What the fuck did that school say to his 10-year-old kid? So he gets a lawyer and sues the school for whatever motives the lawyer can think of. They won the case and Jongdae stops studying in the public school. His parents get him a place in the top school of Seoul, private and for the richest of kids. Jongdae doesn't know the difference between the schools, so when his parents inform him he just thanks both of them and proceeds to his bedroom to organize his crayons.

The first day on his new school goes smoothly for Jongdae. Nobody tries to get his crayons away and he's allowed to draw as he pleases. It's his parents who are paying, anyway.

The following year, Jongdae enters the first year of middle school. The kids are odd and kind of different from what Jongdae's accustomed to. They bully others, sometimes they get in groups and give the scholarship students a push on the head or a slap. Even if they're kids, they can be as mean as high-schoolers. Jongdae prefers to stay alone, if you don't count his papers and crayons, and stay out of problem.

His memory loss continues, little by little, from forgetting where he put his things to not remembering having ever possessed that item. He slowly forgets how to tie his shoelaces and how to button his shirt and it really does worry his mom, who merely observes but doesn't say a thing to her husband.

When Jongdae's 14 he misses a day of school. His parents went to work earlier and didn't have time to take him to school, meaning he had to go by bus. But when his mother comes back, he's sitting on the living room's floor staring at the blank paper in front of him. "Jongdae," his mother says, shaking him awake. Jongdae blinks and looks up, finding his mother back from work. "Oh, I fell asleep. Welcome back," he says and smiles, picking up the crayon next to his hand. His mom wonders how it is possible that he was sleeping with open eyes and how the black around his eyes are darker than normal. His rosy cheeks from six years ago were currently pale, his dark hair a contrast to the paleness. She knows that he didn't attend school that day, she received a call earlier on and told that he was sick. Coming home and seeing him there, sleeping, just made all her suspicions true.

While his mother is preparing dinner, Jongdae gathers all his drawings and goes to his bedroom. He organizes the new set of his drawings and places them securely inside of his closet, leaving with a smile.

When Jongdae's 15, the bullies set their next target. "His lips form that cat-like smile, that's so cuuute~" the bully says, getting hold of Jongdae's cheek and pulling it, making Jongdae cry in pain. "Oh, he just cried out, how weak. Is his large jaw weak like him?" The boy gives a punch to Jongdae's jaw, making the boy fall on the ground. The four bullies laugh, high-fiving each other and smirking at Jongdae's weakness.

Jongdae slowly gets up, mouth shut and head lowered. Maybe the bullies will go away if he stays silent. Oh, how wrong Jongdae was. The oldest of the bullies hits Jongdae’s calf, asking, "Yah, aren't you gonna say anything?”

"You little piece of shit, say something!" the others shout and Jongdae has a sudden courage to talk back to them, call them names too and hit them. But before his courage can be used, he's on the ground tasting his own blood. "You fucker, just die and don't appear in front of us again or else we're gonna beat you to death instead!"

Jongdae lets out a small whimpered ‘yes’ and the bullies go away, after each kicking a part of Jongdae's body and face. He limps the whole way back home.

The first time Jongdae came home hurt and bruised, the reaction was automatic. "Who did this to you?" "Did you fight?" "What happened?" "Someone punched you, son?" "Let's go to the hospital." But Jongdae only shook his head and thanked his parents before going to his bedroom, which seemed like the best option for him.

Somewhere along the way, Jongdae forgot where his bedroom was and what the bathroom was for. Why did school matter and who were these people who hurt him, Jongdae wondered.

By the end of the year, Jongdae had several bruises and purple skin. He had cut lips that never healed and the black rings around his eyes weren't just due to lack of sleep anymore.  His crayons were a little broken, some in half, but the majority Jongdae had managed to save, and he made the best of them.

New Year’s Day came and went – but not without Jongdae asking what all that food was for – and Jongdae managed to draw a lot, during class and at home. Nothing changed much except that he forgot all his subjects and who the teachers were. He always came back home with his mother fetching him after her work.

"Who are you?"  Jongdae asks the lady who opened the car door for him from the inside. She looks at him, completely caught by surprise. Even when he appeared everyday with the bruises and purple skin, she never said anything – her husband said that it was between men, even though nothing has changed after a year. She holds her breath, her mind working faster than she ever imagined it could. "What do you mean? This is not fun, Jongdae," she tries.

Jongdae tilts his head, a questioning eyebrow raised. His mother sighs and motions for him to enter the car. He does as he's told. "My name's Jongdae then? That's interesting, what is my surname?" he asks his mother, oblivious to his memory loss.

His mother holds back the urge to cry and enter a state of panic, "Kim. Kim Jongdae." Jongdae nods, happy with his full name.

"I can't detect what he has actually, everything seems to be working just fine in his brain. Maybe it's just memory loss, or maybe he has been suffering from something that may or may not be affecting his situation, such as a trauma," the doctor informs as Jongdae waits in the lobby, his mother nodding at everything she hears from the doctor and thanking him afterwards.

Memory loss or amnesia, either way it's not good to the point he forgot about his own mother. The trauma, she thinks, must be from having fights with some boy and getting bruises all over himself. Maybe it's time to stop all these.

Even with his memory loss, Jongdae still attends school and has psychiatric treatment after his classes. "What do you love the most?" The psychiatrist asks Jongdae, who sits facing the doctor.

"My crayons," is his reply.

The doctor writes down everything Jongdae says, taking notes on the side of the page. "Why is that so?" Jongdae stops to think.

"They like me and I like them, they keep me company. They're my friends." The doctor raises an eyebrow, questioning his answer but doesn't say anything else. "Do you have anything that you remember the most?"

"My crayons."

When Jongdae is 17, he commits suicide.

At the building of his school, he goes up to the rooftop and jumps off, leaving behind his crying parents and a set of crayons, his empty soul no longer with them.

The funeral is simple, filled with tears from his parents and encouraging smiles from his relatives. There are no regrets, everything left behind.

When Jongdae's parents decide to move out from this big house to an apartment, they start cleaning everything on the house. The untouched room, Jongdae's bedroom, is being seen for the first time in five months again. The dark room is no longer dark as soon as the lights are turned on. "This brings back so many memories," Jongdae's mother mumbles under her breath, looking around her son's bedroom before she sets her line of vision on a single item on the bed; a set of limited edition of crayons.

"Look, these were Jongdae's favorite," she says and she feels her tears threatening to fall. His father nods, looking fondly at his son's favorite item in the world. He takes it and turns around, staring at the empty ‘This Belongs To’ tag. No one can tell that this belonged to Jongdae.

His mother proceeds to open the closet, and she finds herself staring at a pile of paper. "Honey, aren't these Jongdae's drawings?"

When his father comes near he nods, agreeing.

 

"They're all blank."


End file.
